Flames of Depression
by SpeedLynx
Summary: What would you do if your whole life was a lie? Would you try to create meaning? The history of one kit, and his relations with the horrors of the Oikonny family.
1. Chapter 1

_First, the disclaimer. I, in no way, own Star fox, or claim credibility to any of its characters that I use. Fox McCloud and all other elements of the series are property of Nintendo._

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_Author Notes:_

_Let me start off by saying that this is my first Star fox fanfic, and my first work here at I highly enjoy the series and decided on writing long, detailed story for it. This will not be your plain shoot/blast and fly action story. That being said, I want this fic to have more of a "psychological" and "paranoid" feel to it, give it the traits of a plot that make things suspenseful. There will also be action scenes, I mean, what story doesn't have them? Yes, I am also a big fan of romance, so expect to see a bit of that too at a later state in the story. And as for the rating, there will be significant violence, language, and/or sexual themes. Something worthy of a Teen+13. It may get occasionally gory, but everything else is equivalent to the everyday controversial things of life that you see on sitcoms or any other form of public television._

_The plot in this fic is canon to storyline for the most part, you may see some differences in the timeline, or maybe a few additions to characters that are already apart of the series. I will bring in a few new characters along the way, not to mention, the main character of the story will be purely made up of my imagination. Of course, all of the present Star fox characters will keep their original personalities. Otherwise, it'd be boring wouldn't it?_

_The story first starts off a few years post Assault, around the time of Star fox Adventures. After I get done with the first few chapters that will delve into the main characters past and personality, I will pull a jump in the timeline and go into how the story along with the protagonist in the beginning will tie into the Star fox team and their history with the Oikonny family. I will have flashbacks that are years apart, ranging from the first Lylat war, to the now. Most will be extremely pertinent to the story, and others will just pull your strings. _

_The prequel chapters, which I am still specifically debating on how long to make, will play a major part into the overall plot. You must read them to understand the rest of holes in the story that will be left on purpose. Pay attention, tie up loose ends, and make educated guesses. The more incorrect your theories are in the beginning, the more suspenseful and surprising the story will be on later. Major foreshadowing is in place, remember. I want to the reader to figure out something and skim backwards through the chapters looking for confirmation only to be fooled when they least expect it. I love the kind of writing that keeps people on the edge, requires them to think, puts their mind to work. The story may be a bit boring in the beginning, since you'll see a bunch of new characters and you won't know entirely what is going on. But I'm sure it will get interesting by chapter 3, when things start coming together. _

_I must also note that I will try to update at least once a week. And I would love reviews, no matter how harsh, hypocritical, or pointless they are. Anyone that takes time out of their life to read a piece of someone else's imagination deserves major props. But enough of the thesis, I'm an impatient person. Let's get to the story, shall we?_

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_**What would you do if your whole life was a lie?**_

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_**Flames of Depression**_

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_**Chapter 1**_

_**-**_

"**T**he pulse, its a feeling. A feeling of presence; of existence. The reason why I live is different. My pulse...is different. I feel it; it grows stronger, beyond my control. Throbbing, more throbbing. Its starts in the vestibular muscle of the brain, then moves to the slowly throughout my veins by use of the massages output by nerves. My instincts change, my wants change, and my needs change. I don't know anything, I feel so incomplete, as if I have a bigger purpose in life. But no, it doesn't seem that way. Were all just his puppets, tools to be used for evil deeds? I've been told there are no evil, no "bad", only strength and power, and those who haven't the will to seek it. Why do I feel this way? Unique? I am the same as all the others, distraught, used, and misguided. And yet, I am the only one not afraid to speak it. Do I have a past? What did I do back then? None of this makes sense. Why am I here? The only thing I know is war, and blood. The feeling, its coming back. No, it has to stay away. I don't want this. How do I stop it? If I am to feel this much pain, what's the point in living? Having to be something I'm not, it's senseless. I am the only one around here with emotion, with feelings. Why? So many questions I don't have the answer to. I have a feeling this isn't the way life was meant to be. This agony, it has to subdue. I must find out what's going on. I have to get to the bottom of this. But quick death is a light punishment here; do I really want to die? If my lungs must cease to draw breath for a cause, something I have never had in my life, I am ready."

The thin surface of the paper was then penetrated by a sticky, red substance. Ren threw down the pen, balled up the paper, and immediately headed over to the trash ben, stumbling on a loose piece of plywood in the floor layout. Before he could get up, regurgitation overtook and more blood was spilt seemingly over the ground. Finally reaching the destination, he let the plastic bag on the interface of the can take in the liquid. Confident that he was through, the leg muscles in his lower region started to move instinctively and he forced himself to his feet.

"What the hell?" Came a voice overly audible on the opposite side of his shoulder.

He turned around startled. "I told you not to wake me up in the middle of the night, dammit."

The figure in the bed wasn't visible due to the massive shadow that the lamp on the desk was causing on the protruding side of the wall. Ren wanted to smile cockily, put he didn't have the energy at the moment to do anything but speak. "Does it look like I care? Even in the least?"

"Tch, you're going to help me clean up this mess." A silhouette in the dark quickly became noticeable as it rose up from the bed and into the light. The male dog gave a grunt as he walked clumsily to the desk where the blood oozed over the edge. He was of average size, perhaps with a height of about five feet and six inches. Brown fur and scars shown easily in the bright UV, covering every part of his shirtless back. "I told you to go to the medical ward few days ago." He said with a bit of a pissed off quirk.

"Already did, they won't tell me the problem." He responded, stuggling to walk over to the nearby cabinet. He opened it and rummaged through the items, which consisted mainly of battle armor, food, drinks, and some sexually explicit material that belonged to his roommate.

The dog ushered him to pass a towel, he did so, keeping a few in his hand. "That's bullshit kid, don't lie to me."

"You want to make something of it, old man?" He said, lowering himself to floor and giving the puddle of blood a repetitive circular motion. Out of the corner of his eye he could partially see a figure hastily scrubbing the desk and floor below it in an effort to get done quickly. "No." Came a gruff reply. "I need to get some shuteye, or I'm gonna have my ass busted again for an off schedule breakfast."

Ren felt a blood soaked towel thrown from the opposite side of the room land on his head, noticeably staining his white patch of fur. He took it off with a reluctant moan and continued to clean up the body fluid. When he saw that floor below him was clean, he rose to his feet and checked the clock on the wall. 2:47 was displayed by the hands. Tossing the towels into the clothes bin, he let out a yawn.

Walking over to the cell-like bars that separated them from rest of the world, he looked down the hall seeing nothing more than cells on the corresponding sides of each wall for nearly half a mile. A few guards were posted around the separate rooms to assure no one slipped out unnoticed. Hell, it's not like anyone would get out of the base anyway. There had to be at least a few feet of dense titanium surrounding every part of the architecture. Or at least, that's what he was told.

The young kit walked over to his desk, where he had been writing earlier. After a brief peek over his shoulder to see if his obnoxious cellmate was asleep, which by the sound of excessive snoring he was, he checked the page in which he had tore out before hurling and did his best to wipe the blood off of it. Picking up the paperback journal, he stuck the wrinkled college-rule paper back in the book and closed it. He walked tiredly too his bed and tucked the journal into the mattress, making sure it was hidden. It was important to him. Most of the others didn't have personal items like this since they were hard to get a hold of. And to make sure his roommate didn't reveal his personal material, he always had the magazines in the cabinet as leverage.

Finally putting his mind to rest, he was able to lie down. Looking at his hands above the covers revealed blood stains that sunk into every area of his fur. Oh well, he didn't care, he would shower in the morning.

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**R**en, a vulpine at the age of seven and a half, had hands that were already stained with the blood of war. Being the youngest individual at some isolated war camp facility, he didn't exactly fit, often being the scapegoat in any situation, or just plain out being insulted. And having the position of the only full bred vulpine didn't help matters either. He didn't know why he knew his age, or why he wasn't given a full name. He knew practically nothing. The real name and location of the facility is a secret from all its inhabitants. None know exactly why. No one questions why.

Ren also didn't know how he was so advanced for his age. He talked like an adult, had the equivalent I.Q. of all the adults here, and was treated the same. He was known throughout the camp for being the youngest killer on the battlefield, no exceptions. Everyone knew his name, he was socially popular, but he didn't try to be, and he didn't care. He didn't have any memories prior to a few months ago; it was a strange fact of life that plagued him every night in his sleep. Asking questions to the other prisoners about their past wouldn't only get him reported for "attempting to obtain off limit information", or some other obscure bullshit like that.

Andross, the leader of the facility, wasn't always present to run the show. More often than not, his nephew, Andrew, would be in charge of the workings, duties, and responsibilities of the building. Public speaking and the annoying voice over the intercom every other morning earned him many long winded sighs whenever he was mentioned or seen. However, his uncle was the type of person no one preferred to talk about. Andross, a large ape to Ren's knowledge, was said to be feared to the utmost degree. He had never seen the ape, only heard his voice once at a meeting held in the cafeteria, in which he was on a balcony and the vulpine's field of vision didn't reach.

The rhythm of his vocals was the most disturbing thing Ren had ever heard. Even after all the bloodshed he had seen in the past few months, after all of the war-crazed individuals he had met so far, this distinct voice sent an awkward, unstable chill down his spine. In a sense, he wondered how he himself stayed sane after all the things he'd seen, heard, and done. No one else thought that way; no one else had so many questions. Why did he?

The purpose of this camp from hell, as Ren thought, was never specifically talked about. It was obvious they were being used for war and military purposes, since they were sent on recon missions and had firefights every two weeks in the least. Killing wasn't something he enjoyed doing, and it wasn't something that plagued him every night in his sleep. He felt as if it was an appropriate action that he could use to survive. Even to this day, he didn't understand how he had survived from a logical point of view. All of the opposing forces were older than him, and in numerous cases, his whole team would be outnumbered and outclassed. Yet they would come out victorious every time. It always seemed as if the enemy was slow, or one step behind. Maybe all of the people here, including him, were extremely experienced mercenaries? But if so, why doesn't anyone say so? When he picked up the gun, or balled his fists, or used any other method of attack, it was natural instinct. Aim was perfect, he was fast, never had to take a breather. The enemy was, always in one way or another, weaker.

Either way, he was happy to be alive. Unlike most of the mammals he knew, who could really careless whether or not they had a heartbeat.

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**T**he blunt force of a pillow was the first thing Ren got in the morning, since his roommate, Marius, always woke up before he did. It was probably because he stayed up late writing in a journal or watching TV while the dog did nothing but sleep.

"Wake up, our ETA to the conference room is in fifteen minutes."

The vulpine did nothing but roll over in dismay with a groan. "Fine." Came the usually gruff voice of Marius. "If they come in here with the taser when your ass is still asleep, don't expect me to cover for you pup."

Ren heard his words, and as usual, forced himself out of bed. He sat up looking at the dog who was slurping a warm bowl of oatmeal. He knew Marius had covered for him many times before, and the rules state if you're still asleep at 6:30a.m, your rations for the morning are with withheld. With a groan from his stomach accompanying his yawn, he lifted the covers off himself to reveal bits and pieces of red crust, which he presumed was dried and _coagulated_blood. He brushed it off and headed for the clothes cabinet next to the clothes bin.

"You've only got a few minutes for a shower, hurry."

Pulling out a plain shirt and a pair of jeans, he headed for the bathroom door. "What does Oikonny want this time?" He said rebelliously.

"Another damn weapons conference, if anything." He stated flatly. "And I'd watch my mouth if I were you. The whips don't particularly feel good."

"Of all people, I would know." He said, walking into bathroom. Quickly making his way to the shower drainage area, he pulled off his clothes and let himself get drenched by the cold water of the shower. For some odd reason, he'd always preferred cold water. Most of the vulpine population was fond of the warm temperature, not the cold. It was odd he had a reptilian trait.

After a few minutes of getting ready, he was braced and waiting outside the cell door.

Marius nudged him. "Don't make a smart remark like last time; you almost got us in trouble." The dog adjusted his suit and bent down to adjust his boots. "And get rid of the attitude." He added quickly before standing up so he could be at eye level with the kit.

At first Ren thought about a smart remark, but came to a silent 'never mind' agreement. "You've been my cellmate pairing for two weeks and I'm supposed to bow down to you? What I do is none of your business."

"What you do affects us both you little smart ass!" The dog spouted, enraged.

"And I care why?" It nearly strained his neck to look up a dog. "What a selfish piece of trash."

"Listen brat, I've been here for years and-" He suddenly cut himself off in hearing the footsteps down the hall. "Be quiet, don't do anything funny." He whispered.

"Whatever."

Two VMF soldiers, or 'Venomian Military Force' as displayed by the logos on their backs, walked up to halt across from them. They took a moment to inspect the attire being worn, then checked them both for any kind of items they may have snuggled outside of their quarters. Most likely because there had been numerous cases of attacks with hidden weapons or household items, such as razorblades and sharp combs.

"You two ready?" Said one of the guys in uniform, who were completely non-visible due to their helmets. It was impossible to tell what race they were from. They were both heavily armed. Upon quick speculation of them, Ren could tell off hand what kind of weapons they were, what there are best used for, and exactly how they worked.

"Affirmative." Came the voice of Marius, who wanted to prevent Ren from answering any sort of questions before things got out of hand.

"Alright, march."

When this was said, the two captives stepped in front of the soldiers and began to walk at a steady pace, with the VMF directly behind them. The vulpine's inquisitive mind began to naturally wander. He recalled the weapons on the soldiers. The one right behind him was equipped with a Slide-Action Laser Slug, which was often used pierce directly through flesh without making a mess, but required very accurate handling. The one on the opposing side held a hand taser, a small gun like device that fires electric darts to incapacitate a person temporarily. Sending a jolt of one-thousand volts of electricity and radiation into the nerves, instantly stunning the opposer, it wasn't exactly a pain proof weapon.

He never realized why the soldiers that were used to escort him along with everybody else held such heavy weaponry. Were they really that dangerous? That different?

The light of a nearby opening at the end of the closed corridor caught his attention. Many occupants, or "patients" as some like to call them, became visible sitting in a neat order of tables within the octagonal shape of the conference room. Many other VMFs could be seen on the sides of the room, who had accompanied all of the others to their respective seating arrangements. He had been to so many of these, it was tiring.

He could see Marius take a few steps in front of him before he was shoved out of his state and near one of the chairs under a table. They were lucky to get a seat by the entrance; it was an easy exit once the speaking was over.

"Idiot." He could hear Marius whisper under his breath before he could take his seat.

"Tch."

The lights in the room began to dim, and the spotlight shone on to the podium as an assistant VMF came to the microphone. A loud, ear-piercing whistle was given, immediately stopping conversation and all forms of bodily noise. The podium was cleared and the assistance president, Andrew Oikonny, stepped into the light, taking the microphone off the podium and going mobile. This got a few long-sighs and silent laughs, as no one appreciated or liked hearing the high-pitched and annoying voice of the ape.

"As I'm sure you know," he began, "most of you have probably heard about the high-ranked weapon transport mission coming up tomorrow at 1200 hours."

Ren was startled immediately, the quarters he was stowed in never got notice of this mission. He looked to his left and saw Marius just as perplexed as he was. Usually missions were posted in their dorms as printed memos that were stuck to the wall for easy visual confirmation.

"-Only high ranked soldiers will be permitted to participate. Some of you will be given a choice in the matter as to whether you'll want to go or not, and some of the most experienced groups must go, no exceptions. Be ready, the list of must-have participants will be given after those who are high rank sign up and volunteer. The ones who are chosen for the mission uncontrollably by rank will have notices posted in your quarters."

Oikonny put the microphone back on its resting place and stepped off stage, exiting quickly through an automatic sliding door to the left. The lights in the room became equal in intensity and there was an immediate uproar of dialogue between the occupants.

"The hell?" Marius stated, nearly coming up from his seat. "We received post notice to wake up at 6:30 today for that shit?"

Immediate qualms could be heard all over the room. Statements that resembled "What the fuck" statements could audibly be heard everywhere. Ren didn't understand it himself either, normally notices and conferences were all at least thirty minutes long. They must have been transporting some pretty important weaponry if that was all the information put out. Important enough to be considered classified to all but those apart of the mission. The crowed ceased, and everyone was escorted back to their dorms in the same fashion.

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"**D**ammit..."

Marius was pacing the room with anger and frustration, Ren knew how serious the situation was, but he only wanted to take advantage of the moment.

"It's not that big of a deal", the kit said casually, lying on his bed with his arms behind his head.

"Your ass doesn't have to go!" He said, going through the cabinet making sure all of his suited gear was in its place, ready to go. "And on top of that basket of fruit, we weren't even notified of the activity!"

"It was probably just a paperwork error, or one of the employees could've looked over us. What's the problem? The ape said you would get rewarded, and I'm sure it's worth it. All the extra rations and days off I got were worth every minute-"

"You just don't get it, do you? Have you ever screwed up a mission?! Messed up the plans? Got in the wrong battle formation? Come up with a late completion time? No, you haven't punk. The consequences presented by the possibility of making mistakes are much more dangerous than you could imagine. Punishment risks are NOT worth the reward."

For the first time in the short period he had known Marius, he was actually taking his speech seriously. "There is no sense in complaining about it, if you're chosen, you're chosen, simple as that. I know I would take every chance in the goddess' name to get out of here and into the fresh air." Ren stated flatly. The response he got afterwards was not what he expected. His roommate was laughing.

"Kid, do you really think this is such a bad place? Think about it, you do a little work, get paid, and your protected from the outside threats of the real world, all of them."

The young kit had enough; he got up in a rage that made Marius flinch. "Do YOU remember the real world? Huh? Are you fortunate enough to know what's out there? Have you had the pleasure of being free? Have you!?"

Marius only tilted his head towards the ground on the bed where he sat. "...Quiet."

"Answer me! What the hell does everyone know that I don't!?"

Suddenly, he felt a fast upward motion on the collar of his shirt. The much bigger and more muscular dog suspended him in the air and he was then forcefully thrown against the wall with a rumble. Ren took a moment to recuperate after being winded; coughing a bit before he was able to stand up. This was merely sandbagging for them.

"Shut it, you'll get us in trouble talking like that."

The hostile moment was then cut off by a walking VMF, who seemed to be carrying a stack of papers and a clipboard. His attention seemed to be cut off from what he was doing. "What's going here?"

"Nothing, sir." Marius immediately spurted, sitting back down in his place.

The clad black uniformed soldier, disregarding the commotion, began to ruffle through the papers attached to the clipboard in his left hand. "First, do we have any volunteers in this group?"

"No." came the reply from both. The official then took a moment and observed a piece of paper he stumbled upon. The seconds grew longer, and the silent situation became awkward. He stifled a small laugh, which they both found unusual, since Oikonny's workers rarely ever showed emotion.

"What is it?" Ren shot first, rubbing his stomach from the sting that still remained from the forced pressure against his lungs.

"Marius and Ren, is it?" He asked inquisitively, holding up a piece of paper with text unreadable from the distance.

The orange coated fox was speechless, while Marius only nodded his head. "Well, that's unfortunate because I'm afraid neither of you have a choice in the matter." He took the piece of the paper and used the sticky material on the top to plaster it inside the cell, then took steps down the hall to the other prisoners. Both of them immediately rose from their positions and closed in on the paper.

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' Marius- A rank, mission accepted '

' Ren- C rank, mission accepted '

' Report for escort tomorrow at 1200 '

' Hours sharp for briefing and armory. '

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Both stood flabbergasted, staring wide-eyed at the paper. Gray paws then hastily removed the post from its spot and out of vision. Marius stood holding the paper, confused and worried. It looked like he would break a sweat any moment. Ren took a few steps backward, his eidetic memory was nothing short of astounding, and he had a face of denial glued to his mug. Marius then turned to face him with the same look he had seconds before.

"We... we're both accepted?" He rubbed his forehead with the back of his paw. "A C-rank was chosen? I thought this was a high-priority escort? The hell…"

There were five ranks of mercenaries, patients, occupants, or what ever you wanted to call them. E-ranks were those who have just been accepted and at least were a week new. D-ranks were those who had a total of at least three outings and three weeks of service. C-ranks, which held the majority of the rankings, were the ones who have done five or more missions, or had been present a total of three months. B-ranks were only a small step higher than the C, requiring the person only to have been there a year or more. And finally, A-rank was top notch, in which required five years of service and a total of twenty missions to achieve.

"This has to be some sort of mix up." Ren barely managed to vocal. "This can't be right..." He continued, taking more backward steps until the back of his knees collided with the bed as he involuntarily sat on it.

"You have to say something." Marius stated. "Taking on tasks that are out of your league is more dangerous to your comrades than yourself."

"Talk to them of my own free will? I've never done that before..." The young pup felt a chattering noise inside his head. It took him a second to realize that the noise was actually his teeth.

"Oh, but you have no problem making remarks and comments behind their backs, do you?" He didn't give Ren the chance to respond. He walked over to his bed and sat on it, going over the paper. "If you have something extremely important to say, they will listen." He eyed the boy across the room, the returned his vision to the paper. "This looks like a pretty bad fuck up. If you don't speak, you could wind up getting punished for not reporting a possible error."

Gathering up some courage, he began to walk over to the cell-like bars. "Alright, I'll do it."

"You're going to do it now?" Marius said, startled and surprised from the sudden response.

"Now or never." he remarked as he leaned into the cage bars and stuck his arms through. "Hey!" He yelled grabbing the attention of the surrounding VMF. They all turn to face his direction, stopping what they were doing with the clipboards and paper. "We have a problem in here!" He yelled again. The soldiers seemed to talk amongst themselves for a moment before one started to come to his position. Ren's heartbeat increased from the tension.

"What's all this yelling for? You'd better have a damn good reason for interrupting the selection process." he stated flatly, crossing his arms.

"That's what the problems about", he began "I was chosen for this special escort mission, which is supposedly only permitted to have high ranks..."

The soldier lifted up the veil on his helmet for a moment to spit in the hallway, interrupting him. "What's your rank, kid?" Ren could barely see under the brief exterior of the helmet for a moment. He seemed to be a hare with brown fur, from the appearance of the muzzle.

"C." He said motioning for Marius to bring him the post notice. The observing dog did so quickly, not wanting to be apart of the situation. He took it from Marius' paw and held it out to the hare, who snatched it from his hand.

"I see." he remarked after taking a brief moment to look at it. "This is definitely an error, especially if you're of C class." He folded the paper and stuck it in his pocket. "Alright, follow me." Taking a card key and opening up the automatic door, Ren stepped out. The soldier behind him addressed the direction he supposed to walked buy pointing his gun. "Try anything funny and I won't hesitate." he reassured.

This was the first time Ren had ever got time out of the dorm when they weren't going to the conference room, or to the cafeteria. He often wondered how in the world all of these people that were so similar to him took this abuse, this imprisonment. He recalled one mission in which he, and one other, was assigned to obtain information from Katina's central military base. In a sense, it was really only him, since his accomplice was the one assigned to keep him under control, keep him from escaping. Always, on every recon, mission, or undercover assignment, there was at least one VMF, who was equipped with radiation like technology to keep them under control and within a certain radius. He wasn't exactly sure how the technology worked, but if an occupant bypassed a set perimeter, or the VMF lost his pulse, every one under the influence of the mission was immediately eliminated. He wasn't sure how, or exactly why, but it had something to do with an immediate outburst of an electrical field, since there had been numerous cases of patients committing suicide by leaving the field of protection that the VMF seemed to emit.

Any how, he and the other soldier infiltrated the architecture quite easily through the electronic schematic map they were equipped with and made their way to a large central computer. The objective was to download all of the files pertaining to Corneria's supply ships, and their passageways to the city via space. He wasn't exactly sure why, he never knew why, perhaps whoever they were giving service to was planning war with Corneria in the future and wanted to blockade all supplies so the enemy couldn't recuperate.

Ren was immediately knocked out of his thoughtful state when the hare behind him shoved his shoulder.

"Hey! Didn't you hear me? I said wait here." The soldier walked to the door in front of him a knocked, but to no avail, there wasn't a response.

It took the kit a minute to realize how long they had been walking. He hadn't been paying attention at all, just moving in the direction pointed by the gun. He didn't recognize this part of the building, and it suddenly overtook him. The large, wooden like door was unique. The only one of its kind that he could remember seeing. Most of the automatic doors were made of a shiny metallic alloy. Something as frail and weak as wood couldn't be used to contain anyone, it had to be an employee office, or something of the sort.

The hare knocked, and took his helmet off at the sight of the door creaking open. Ren's field of vision didn't reach inside the door, but due to the sudden straight posture of the brown rabbit, he could guess he was addressing someone important. After a few whispers, nods, the soldier put his helmet on and pointed inside of the door.

"Go in immediately, Mr. Oikonny wishes you to be in his presence." He backed up so that the pint-sized vulpine could pass.

Never in the little memory he held, had he ever talked to an Official himself outside of an assignment. The last name 'Oikonny' could be referring only to one of two people. He walked forward, taking light, slow paced steps towards the creatively carved and crafted door, praying that the person he was going to meet in the room was not who he thought. He looked behind himself, noticing that the soldier was already walking down the endless metal corridor away from him.

Finally walking in, the door gave a large slam behind him. Jumping from the large sound of the impact, in which he didn't expect a wooden door to have an auto-close feature, he immediately looked around to inspect the room. There were many different varieties of portraits, medals and trophies hanging on the wall. The sound of a master clock and its hands filled the room with a beat that seemed to follow his own pulse. The ceiling fan above only added to the chill creeping down his spine, and the most horrifying feature of the room was the place he was standing, a carpet made from a bear who had been slain at one time or another, seeing as its body had been well preserved and matted. Its mouth gaped open at the base of the rug, only a few feet away from Ren's feet.

A large central desk could be seen in the middle part of the structure, it held a computer, fax, and a large copying machine was set to the side of it. Behind it was a tall, wide rolling chair that faced in the opposite direction.

"Come closer." Came an older, yet high pitched voice.

He let out an internal sigh of relief. The person he was about to hold conversation with was someone he had heard many times before.

"Sit."

He proceeded to do so, pulling up a chair and sitting, cautiously lifting up his tail so it wouldn't be sat on.

"I hear you have a problem with your mission acceptance." The chair spun around, revealing the fur covered face of the cynical, Andrew Oikonny.

This was the first time he had been face to face with the ape. It was overwhelming, and it took a large amount of his courage not to tremble. In a sense he felt honored and horrified at the same time. He had never heard of any of his roommates seeing him up close, let alone anyone in the dorms for that matter. All of the discussions and rumors he heard at the cafeteria were true. He had a left twitching eye and a small wart under his right, double-sided chin, hence one of his known nicknames, 'Ass chin'.

But no one else ever got special treatment, why him? Certainly there had been technical errors in the past, but to his knowledge none of the occupants had ever been taken out of their cell and sent to speak to help sort out problems. It seemed too risky, seeing as most of the guards were always wearing weapons, and there was a manual alarm every few meters in the cell corridor.

Ren remained quiet, not wanting to speak out of place.

"What's your rank status?" He said, using his tongue to lick his finger and grip the stack of papers he was ruffling through.

"C" He eyed the papers. The text on them wasn't visible, but there was a significant number in the stack and it took some effort to hold them up.

Andrew stopped on one paper and eyed it for a moment. His expression changed and he smiled a bit, setting down the stack of papers and taking a moment to read it more thoroughly.

"It seems that uncle Andross has been monitoring your mission success in the past few months."

Ren didn't like what he was hearing; it was too simple of a statement, too ordinary. "And it seems..." He said, taking a moment to put the paper back in a drawer underneath the desk.

"He finds your young age and success rate impressive."

This was odd, in his total of six missions, only two were of a critical degree. And one of those he had came up short. He still had the scars from the punishment to prove it.

"The one who decided for your placement on the roster was Andross himself, and if he sees you fit, regardless of your rank or how important the mission is, you must go."

Andross had been monitoring his status? What exactly did that mean? His endurance, kill total, success rate? He didn't understand. Did he keep up with everyone's record like this?

Andrew continued "Now, that's all there is to the situation. Hold on a moment while I-" He was cut off by the instant transmission of an IM to his computer. It caught him off guard and his speech trailed off as he stared into the monitor. After a brief moment, the emotion on his face changed from that of concentration to seriousness. He shot up out of his chair and it fell backwards with a thud. He looked like a giant compared to the kit. Perhaps it was only because he was so small.

"Shit..." He heard Oikonny grumble as he made his way to the entrance of the room. He turned around and addressed the vulpine with a finger.

"Go anywhere outside of this room and your punishment could very well be death. So don't even think of leaving." Nearly walking into the hallway, he poked his head back inside the room through the fancy door. "I'll send guards to escort you back to your cell shortly."

Andrew flew outside of the room. Ren could hear the sound of his sprinting footsteps echoing down the hall until the door muffled its sound upon closing.

And so, he was left alone and unguarded for the first time in this facility. So many infectious thoughts plagued his mind at the moment. Could he escape? Was he willing to risk his life all on this moment? What should he do? Checking his surroundings, his battle instincts told him to look for security cameras. The young eyes darted to each top corner of the room. He saw none. Quickly getting up from his chair, he went to the door and got on all fours. Brushing the fur on his face against the carpet of the floor, he looked under the door. No feet could be seen throughout the entire corridor, and it seemed to stretch for a mile.

Could he really escape? Could he make a run for it? A mental battle was taking place in his head. If he did try and run, he would need to be fast and accurate with his movements around a structure he didn't know at all. He couldn't see around the corner, which only added more cons to the idea. If there were guards, even if there were only two or three which he could take out relatively easy, there were alarms all over the place. But he then thought again on Andrews words. Did he really mean what he said? Would he know before hand if he left the room? Was that chance really worth his life?

He got up off the floor, balling his fists in frustration.

He would get his chance...Eventually.

Taking another look around the room, he could see one light source other than the one shining under the door. Walking over to the computer screen, which Oikonny had left on in the haste of his leave, was a blank white screen with some text. Nothing knowledgeable about the workings of computers came to him at the moment. The infiltration mission on Katina had him guarding his escort rather than focusing on the computer.

His head naturally came closer due to curiosity, and what he saw surprised him.

Military Compound, Titania

General Shears

First Class, Three Stars

Camp Memo

Mr. Oikonny:

"I understand that the recent documents your uncle asked for were delayed due to some slight technical errors. Regardless, the information is still being held and will be sent. Expect it in up to three to four days. I also wanted to notify you that the exchange of our equal information is still in effect, and we expect your lab results pertaining to the project in short time.

As well, the prototype of your B.O.W in our containment facility has recently been purged. It's DNA confirmation was completely identical to that of Andross. This is the final 'Go' for the approval. The specimen will be transported to you tomorrow a little before 1200 hours as you requested. This is the final notice. Our supply ships are ready for the pick up of your enhanced escorts. The scientists and other staff here at the Titania military base expect your full payment in due time within the expiration date.

And on a personal note, I was wondering how the 'long term' commitment project was progressing. Have you and Andross made any progress with the DNA matching for the prehistoric species? Last time we talked, you specifically mentioned a pair of patients; although I don't recall the code names you gave them. Anyhow, I would like more clarification about this in the future if you don't mind."

Sincerely,

Martin Shears


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter two, yes... finally. So much for that weekly update schedule, huh? I also apologize for the massive amount of spelling and grammatical errors in the first chapter. I guess that's what horrible software does to you. At any rate, I've revised it and removed the errors that plagued it. I hope you enjoy chapter two._

_**Chapter 2**_

_**-**_

**T**he burning sensation in his eyes grew greater with the seconds he stood eyeing the screen; his pupils became dilated while he became more focused on reading the second and third paragraphs, which caught his attention. After reading it silently to himself, which only took a few seconds, he released the grip his eyes had on the lit square.

Realizing how hard he was breathing, he stood up into the straight position he had before hunching over, letting out a sigh. His eyes flew across the screen again for reassurance of what he had just read. Momentarily after double-taking on the memo a few times, the navy blue eyes that sat underneath his forehead drifted to the walls, which he hadn't got to explore more thoroughly due to the concentration he used to focus on the rough looking ape.

Maneuvering around the fallen rolling chair in a fashion that wouldn't move it from its place, he eased his feet over to the crimson colored wall. On it rested a few frames. Golden crests accompanied the pictures along with text of different fonts. Each glass-protected case held an individual image, displaying his or her own personal portrait. He took a look at the first one in a long line of them that repeated down the room.

It displayed a rather conceded faced raccoon that was obviously making an arrogant pose. Below the name tag, _'Caimen Vinnard'_, was a small bit of ranking information coated in silver.

_Five Star Ranking Officer, Fleet Leader and Tactics Squad_

_1974-1997_

_-_

He stepped to the side to view the second one, seemingly piercing the glass with his eyes. It was a rare occasion when he ever laid eyes on a female. The format of the picture was the same, displaying name, job, and status. It was a striped tiger who wore glasses and used pins to hold up her massive amount of hair. Strange, she didn't look like a mercenary or someone with battle experience. Perhaps she was an employee or a scientist.

_Marcile Levington_

_Social Worker, Genetic Analyst_

_1963-2001_

-

Positioning himself in front of the next one, again, he had no idea whose picture he was looking at. It was a wolf, and a fit one at that. A cybernetic eye patch covered his left eye and a protruding scar was noticeable sticking out of it, disfiguring his fur in that area. Ren could take a look in his eyes and tell that he was a battle hardened veteran. He shared the same eyes he saw in himself and everyone else around here, the eyes that spilt blood as a habit of life.

_Wolf O'Donnell_

_Registered Mercenaries, War Tactics and Assassination_

_-_

A blank spot accompanied the space under the description, implying that whoever this wasn't deceased. He stood rubbing his chin, lingering on a few things before moving on to the next picture.

This one had the face of a middle aged raccoon that was too, alive. In his lab coat, he seemed to be proudly holding a test tube that contained a light blue liquid. The young vulpine squinted his eyes in effort to make out the specimen that seemed to be inside. It appeared to look like a worm or embryo of some sort.

_Reece Allele_

_DNA Arrangement, Genetic Placement_

_-_

Upon approaching the next frame, Ren saw the portrait of the individual inside and suddenly felt an inside impulse to spit on its exoskeleton. This was one person in which he wouldn't care if he ever laid eyes on again. He took a moment to recall all the times he and his squad were criticized for minor objective anomalies by this crook of a man. It only reminded him of the equivalent amount of fear and hate he had acquired for the commander.

_Andrew Oikonny_

_Vice President, Assistant Manager_

_-_

Looking down the line of frames, he realized there were too many to go through individually. There was a row above the one he was looking at, and one above that, and so on. However, at the top of the seemingly endless pyramid of squares, there was one that was noticeably larger than all the rest. It lacked crests, stars, text displaying rank, status, and job. Straining his eyes again to see, he could make out the image of an ape. He was large for his species, just as tall as he was wide. The small facial features weren't visible, but he could definitely make out something sinister about the mug, specifically the shape of the eyebrows. There was also something unnerving about the eyes, something that gave a feeling of instability. It felt as if the pupils in the image covered by a gleam of light output by the creature could see right through his very thought.

Involuntarily, he took a step backward. A sharp, yet mellow sound broke his gaze. Strange as it was, for some odd reason, he found himself avoiding direct eye contact with the face. The metal braces on the heels of his shoes made loud clanks on the floor when he moved. He had guessed for a while now they weighed about fifty pounds or so each. They must have been applied to all the footwear around here. Sometimes they felt so heavy on him and he got tired of carrying them around after about a week. He wondered how the VMF's around here wore them twenty-four seven. Come to think of it, he didn't know if they did or not.

His train of thought was wondering again, as it did often. This was one characteristic no one else but him among all the others carried. No one else he conversed with was an intellectual. He mentally slapped himself before walking slowly to the center of the room, near the bear corpse rug. The mouth was forced open, and it had a surprised look on its face. He glanced over at the file cabinets on the opposite side of the room that caught his eye. Closing in on it, he noticed the wooden handles on each box had titanium-like number locks.

"Whoever did this is completely ignorant," He thought.

Tearing the metal locks through the wood would be too simple. It would also arouse suspicion if the were noticed ripped in two. It was the obvious thing to do, which was why he thought otherwise. Kneeling down on one knee, he gripped the lock with his left hand and held it in the loop of his right ear. He listened closely as his right hand fingers rotated the dial. A small click was heard, and he stopped the circular motion. After repeating the process a few times until the clicking was no longer audible, he yanked downward on the round centerpiece. It came loose, as he expected.

Sliding out the door of the cabinet and letting the lock rest on kneecap, his eye caught only one file.

"Odd."

There were numerous cabinets aside from the one he was looking at. Perhaps luck wasn't on his side. Taking two fingers and opening the file cautiously, as not to stray anything out of order, two or three sheets of paper flopped to the side of the paper file. He took them out and hastily eyed them. All he wanted was a bit of information, just a bit. He wanted to know more. Anything that would give him a clue of what this place was truly was.

Lists of names were printed in vertical rows. Not alphabetically, nor chronologically. Last names were abbreviated.

_Shawn D._

_Marshall W._

_Trevor B._

_Janice L._

_Lance O._

_Leroy F._

_Marius H._

_**R & R**_

_Henry F._

_Spencer A._

_James M._

_Larry B._

_Justin P._

_Daniel K._

_Jonathan T._

This was simply the first page and he was eager to view the next one, however, the bolded letters on the page stole his attention. Skimming quickly through the pages, he noticed none of the rest of the names were bolded, nor did any of them have any differentiation from the other ones, except those letters. "R & R" wasn't even a name. Perhaps they were initials.

The orange-red ears parallel to his head fur perked up suddenly as the white fur inside them picked up a vibration. His legs straightened instinctively and his fur stood on end. The lock fell to the floor with thud and he rushed to pick it up. His fur stood further up as the thumping grew louder.

Louder. Louder...

He grasped the lock in one hand tightly and slammed the cabinet closed with a foot. He clipped the lock in place while staring at the door, hoping whoever was coming wasn't as close as his sense of hearing told him. Sprinting across the room, he nearly tripped on the head of the slain bear as he flopped in the rolling chair across from Andrew's desk. He straightened his posture, trying to remain calm. The carbon dioxide forced its way out of his mouth, and the sweat rolling down his fur from anxiousness was wiped away with a quick paw.

His stare continuously remained on the decorated door. Never had he panicked like this before, not even in stealth. He had been flanked once at point blank range while sniping and not been as tense as he was now. The thuds turned into fast footsteps coming down the hall. His fist clenched and his muscles began to num. Vibration seemed as if it was visible on all the objects in the room. The frames looked like they would fall any moment. Was his mind playing tricks on him? He wasn't sure.

The door flung open with force potent enough to break the wooden plaster interior. The ground quaked under his feet.

Ren couldn't help but flinch, and he didn't dare turn around in his chair to face whoever proceeded into the room. He kept his head facing in the forward direction as he did most of the time when dealing with the VMF. A large gray-haired figure was caught zooming past the corner of his vision. Immediately he sighed, knowing that it was Andrew and no one else. Anger and frustration could be seen plastered on his facial features. The clamping of his boots ceased when he reached the front of desk, and he murmured a few obscenities while setting a small, handheld radio like device on the wooden surface.

"Shit... we have the weakest form of employment in this sector. I swear it."

He ran his oversized fingers through the gray locks beginning at the end of his long side burns. His fingers tapped the hollow material impatiently and the light from the monitor made the sweat collecting on his forehead all the more visible.

"No..", the kits mind raced.

The monitor, it was still on. He hadn't touched it at all. It displayed the same screen as it did when Andrew left the room. Was he at fault? Most likely, it was his decision to get up from his seat and read the text. Andrew had specifically told him not to move. If there was any evidence of this, he would surely be punished to the highest degree.

"Now then," the ape sighed, removing Ren out of his mindful state.

"We were... ah, discussing your placement." The anxiousness portrayed by his face earlier was no longer present. "The mission priority is at the maximum level. No one can be removed once the placement decisions are finalized, which they have been for the past hour. Furthermore," taking his fore finger and thumb, using it to parch his head on the desk with the help of his elbow, "Andross has finalized the participants. His decisions outrank any official rules."

The ape's eyes shifted to the monitor of his screen. Ren flinched as his expression simultaneously switched to suprise. The pupils of his eyes were clearly smaller, even from this distance. There was a moment of silence. The thumping from his temples could be heard in his eardrum as he stared into the face of the one across from him.

Strangely, the look on Andrew's face suddenly dissipated, and a normal, casual look plagued his mug.

"That is all, you are dismissed." The ape stood up shortly afterwards, pointing to the door.

"The escorts are waiting outside, go to them."

Never before had he felt more awkward, more out of place. Had what he read on the monitor been too irrelevant to matter? Or was Andrew actually not giving it a second thought? Either that, or he was just a douche. After all, he was prone to stuttering at meetings. Leaving classified information visibly ledgible wasn't exactly smart either. He got up from his chair slowly, watching Andrew's face as he circled around the chair. It seemed suspiciously casual, not his type of mask at all.

"Go on, you're wasting my time." He muttered.

With that, Ren turned his back to the ape and walked as fast as he could to the exit.

Upon turning the door handle, he noticed he was actually turning it the wrong way. He tried it again in the opposite direction, but to no avail. Squinting his eyes, he look at his hand, which was supposedly moving in the opposite manner the nerves in his brain were telling them too. Right was left, and left was right. A small sting ran up his spine and seemed to stop with stunning force on his cerebellum. The fingertips at the end of his furry paws felt as if they held a numbing electric charge that stole the life out of every other part of his ligaments. His legs began to twitch, and blood seeped from his mouth and fell on to the very clean and decorative rug.

Falling to his knees, he gripped his abdominal area in attempt to suppress the feeling of regurgitation. His sense of hearing was shot. Distinctive and deep monotone mumbles came from the opposing side of his direction. With his lower heels finally giving out, he fell on his back, shaking violently. The blurry, shaking image of a moving figure coming closer became dimmer. A blue light emitting from the arm of the figure was the last thing he could see as the eyelid shades covered the rest of the foreboding image of the black outline.

-

_"It is said that dreams are molded by reality. Without that outside influence, fantasy cannot be born while we sleep."_

-

**M**arius lay face up on his bed, a magazine resting beneath the solar plexus of his chest. He stared up at the ceiling, panting for a moment. The lights shined into his eyes once he opened them, blinding him until the iris compensated and absorbed the fresh UV. He got up, folding the magazine and sitting up on the mattress. He tucked it carefully under his bed and out of sight.

His gaze drifted over to his roommate's bed, which was tidy and made. It disgusted him in a way. No one cared whether or not the bed was clean or organized, the only person who ever really saw it was him. It was this child-like behavior that made the young kit seem all the more annoying. His emotions were too erratic, too focused. He seemed to care about the least critical moments in life. He was an odd one, but perhaps his age and inexperience were completely to blame.

Another thing that caught his attention was the small crumbs of dried blood that were easily seeable on the white pillow. Yet another pointless matter in which he cared nothing about. If the runt was sick, he should see the medic. The only reason he'd even asked the pup to get treatment was because the situation affected him. It would only arouse unwanted attention and hype between the A and B ranks if someone noticed his condition. This was something he didn't want. Social activity was high between the ranks, the last thing he needed were rumors spreading about.

The boy was probably being scolded or punished somewhere for rebellion. His attitude got him nowhere. It was strange however, he himself had never been questioned by an official but once, which was a long time ago. It was an experience he hoped to forget quickly afterwards. Obviously, he hadn't. The one he was scheduled to meet held and impression unlike anyone he had ever seen.

He stood up, shaking the thought from his head. Stretching, he cracked his neck and made his way over to the sink, where he washed his hands and face off. He turned the knobs on the sink effortlessly and walked over to the nearby clock. 12:25 a.m. was displayed by the hands. The constant ticking of the second hand filled the room with solemn air.

"Five minutes till lunch," He spat greedily. "About damn time."

A knocking sound to the left of his position caught the dogs attention. The bar windows which were parallel to each cell were audible, even though it was just barely. He made his way to the front cell doors, looking both ways to assure that the VMF's were no where close and within earshot. He stealthily walked over to the windows and stuck his ear to the crack.

"What do you want Conner?" Letting his muzzle muffle his voice to a whisper.

"Me and Marshall need to talk to you at lunch, make your way to our table at the south of the cafeteria."

"What for?"

"This is some weird situation, eh? With the sudden high-priority assignment and all..."

"No shit. Answer me."

"Hardass, as usual.." He murmured, clearing his throat. "There are a couple of rumors floating about concerning the equipment we'll be using in the mission."

His ears suddenly perked. "Who's been snooping?"

"I've no idea but apparently they've got some balls."

"No kidding," The husky glanced over at the clock, which hands displayed 12:27. "All right, the table in the southernmost corner of the cafeteria?"

"Yeah and hurry, most of the C ranks try and hog it as soon as they prance in."

Standing up from the vent bars, he inspected the things visible in his room with a quick eye. Nothing was in the open that would arouse suspicion. Making haste to the bar doors, he looked to his left and right, seeing a pair of VMF across the hall in the left corner of his eye approaching his cell. Immediately he stood in position, feet together, arms at the side, head facing forward. Two soldiers dressed in clad black stooped in front of his cell. The electronic doors slid open upon camera recognition. One security camera lay in front of every dorm cell, supposedly to be used for confirmation of escorts before a door was electronically opened.

"March."

He stepped forward and out of the cell, keeping at a steady pace and doing his best to stay in the middle of the hall. He had recalled a few new patients who had been immediately whipped their first few days simply because of unparalleled movement when being guided to the cafeteria or conference room. The dog wanted no more permanent scars polluting his backside.

Only the sound of metal braces connected to his feet clanking against the floors metal interior could be heard. The men behind him made no such sound when they walked, the very small clattering chirps coming from behind him must have been others coming down the hall. Usually he never heard the sound of footsteps coming from behind him, they were guided one dorm after another.

"Must be in a hurry to get everyone in and out." He thought.

Seeing the light at the end of the long tunnel that protruded in from the cafeteria was a relieving sight. The walk from here to there everyday could only be taken a few times in one lifetime. He was then guided over to the lunch line, which wasn't very long as he originally expected. It was simply luck he'd gotten here first.

After a moment of waiting he came to the buffet, which consisted of whole wheat cereal, a few servings of high-protein meat, and a bowl of slop in which was the default option for every meal of the day. This 'slop' wasn't given a name, it was only known to have immense amounts of potassium and electrolytes, which was something Ren told him. He shook off the disgusting details and proceeded to stand in line.

After obtaining his plate from the bar he inspected the southern part of the cafeteria. The sides of the walls contained VMF positioned against the exterior. Four of them, heavily armed, guarded every visible exit, all positioned in primary defense form, obviously. His gaze cast itself across the massive cafe to the south section of the structure, in which he immediately spotted Conner and Marshall, waving their hands in a hasty motion. Giving a sigh, he headed over to his acquaintances with curious pace.

Pulling out a chair, he sat his plate on the metal surfaced table, hearing a distinctive growl come from beside him.

"Lazy bastard... go figure."

Swirling a bit of mush around his with his spoon, he braced himself for a straight reply. "Cut the crap Marshall, tell me what you know."

The badger's eyes shifted over to Conner for a moment, whose accurate Owl vision picked it up immediately.

"Rumor has it," He began. "the material listed for the assignment is some kind of newly engineered gravity device."

"The source?" Marius spat almost instantaneously.

"I'm not too sure if it's legit, but my cellmate who was recently transferred from another dorm tells me he witnessed one of the imports from Katina. The objects looked rather large, like some kind of hydraulic machine used for architectural development. Basically meant for lifting objects that weigh a few tons."

"Doesn't sound too surprising, we've handled construction before."

"But the odd thing is," He started, eyes wide open. "the machines had wireless linking spectrums connected to their frontal lobes, you know, the kind that are meant for invisible methods of transferring energy."

"I thought it was pretty damn odd, especially considering the fact none of us has even had training using the prototypes of these machines. Seems like they were in a rush." Conner said, taking a sip from the water jug.

"Since when in the hell does Andross run a schedule?"

The two on the opposite side of the table seemed perplexed at the sound of the name. It took a moment for Conner to compensate for the inner shock that momentarily bestowed on him.

"No idea, but how do these crackpots expect us to work complicated machinery without the initial training?"

"I don't know." Marius sat up from his table flipping the spoon in his fingers, taking the tray supporting an empty jug and bowl with one hand. "We'll half-ass it like we always do, passing it off perfectly."

Not giving them a chance to respond, Marius turned around in the direction of the trash bin towards the exit until at the blunt impact of an object halted the movement of his left shoulder. Instinctively pivoting his feet to face in the opposite direction, his eyes caught the sight of his tray resting on the ground.

"Watch were you're going, dumbass."

A rugged looking raccoon, eyes half open and slouching over, stood inches from Marius' chest breathing in his face with a huff.

The coon appeared about six feet tall, weighing in a couple hundred pounds. Marius glanced at him at first, a lower class badge was visible on his right side and his fists were balled, veins protruding through the invisible veil of the skin. The raccoon threw his plate onto the table beside him, closing in on Marius' face.

Conner shot up from his seat, as did Marshall which seemed to gain the attention of some others in the front side of the café.

"Sit down kid," The coon remarked. "Before I put your ass down right here."

The dog glanced past his opposer looking at the perplexed faces of the patients in the front. He eyes shot over to the VMF securing the exits. They seemed to be unaware of the situation.

"Seems that the fresh meat needs an attitude adjustment."

The coon, who seemed disoriented due to his uneven posture and lazy eyes, took a moment to slowly ball his fist. Very sluggishly, after a coughing fit that lasted a few moments, the coon threw a punch that held a path completely desolate of its intended trajectory. Marius easily side-stepped the large animal as he tripped over a seat and fell to the floor, limbs shaking violently, saliva spewing from the mouth.

The dogs eyes widened as the coon's eyes began to slowly fill with the crimson color of hemorrhage. He began to hold his chest and thrash violently, knocking nearby chairs astray and disarraying the tables.

Without notice, the coon was brought down by a powerful discharge of electricity given by a high voltage weapon. He shook as cracking noising polluted the café and smoke emanated from his crazed motion. The room fell silent. The coon hit the smooth metal floor tile with a loud clank as the nearby soldiers rushed over immediately to check his condition.

More silence. The VMF crouching next to the fallen body checked his pulse.

"Nothing" He stated flatly.

Another standing up monitoring the situation came closer to the body and knelt also. "Seems we've got another rejected one. The people at purgatory are gonna love this."

"Funny" he sarcastically replied, radioing for additional support for transportation of the body.

The VMF closest to Marius pointed at him.

"You, sit."

He did so without hesitation.

"The hell.." Marius thought, "we never have health situations in this complex. This would be the first I've seen."

He glanced over at his lunch strewn across the floor, then to Marshall and Conner, who remained stunned by the confrontation as well as the outburst of rage and agony of the coon.

"What'd you do to him?" Conner pondered out loud.

"Dunno. Don't give a damn. You shouldn't either."

Never in his time here had he seen a problem like this. It was always pointless to fight patients because in the end even the E ranks learned quickly that the only enemies they should have to worry about were the ones they were forced to incapacitate on the battlefield. It seemed as if the coon's anger was derived from somewhere else in this case, he was just the final push over the edge. The blunt faced fury seemed artificial.

Marius could probably form an accurate guess about the situation here, but it seemed meaningless to him. Whatever knowledge he would gain from it would be useless to him and every other patient at this facility.


End file.
